


Your Cooperation is Appreciated

by sarcasticsra



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets a little unexpected help with a number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Cooperation is Appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> My last entry for the POI Advent Calendar. It's been fun, guys! :D

“Headed up to Anna May’s room now, Finch,” John says. He makes it to the door, and that’s when he hears the unmistakable sound of a gun going off—it’s suppressed, but still easy to hear from only a few feet away. “Gunshot,” he says, breaking down the door and rushing in, gun at the ready. 

He does not expect to see the scene in front of him, as follows:

Mr. Tomson, on the ground, clearly having just been shot in the leg. Scarface standing over him, looking smug, his gun now trained on John, and Elias standing just off to the side, giving him an interested look.

“I assume you’re looking for Anna May?” Elias says calmly. “She’s in the bathroom.”

“John, what’s going on?” asks Finch in his ear.

“Elias is here,” he says.

“Don’t look so concerned, John,” Elias says. “We simply happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

\---

The place they’ve picked to lay low is a good one, in Anthony’s humble opinion. It’s private, hard to find, and good quality, guaranteed to make sure they’re going to be laying low in comfort. Sure, he has no problem with underground bases and basement safe houses, but every so often, it’s nice to enjoy a little something extra.

His boss checks them in, and Anthony even lets the bellhops carry the bags up to their rooms—well, all except one, because he isn’t trusting his weapons to anyone but himself. He watches them carefully as they move into the elevator; everything seems on the up-and-up.

“Relax, Anthony,” his boss says, clearly amused. “Think of this as an impromptu… vacation.”

“I’m relaxed,” Anthony says, and he smirks. “I guess I could be more relaxed. If you’re offering.”

His boss’s expression turns shrewd and predatory, which is always a fucking turn on. The elevator can’t get to their floor fast enough.

When they do finally reach their room, his boss takes his time dismissing the bellhops—on purpose, of course—but when he finally does, he shuts the door behind them and locks it with the chain.

“Let’s see what we might be able to do about your state of relaxation,” he says, turning back toward him, smiling with purpose.

\---

The third day they’re there, they meet Anna May and her son, Riley.

Anthony is the one who runs into her first; they get on the elevator at the same time, and he can’t help but notice how deeply uncomfortable she is. There’s an automatic flinch to her posture, and she keeps her head trained down, away from him. The little boy next to her, whose hand she’s holding, she’s purposely keeping angled behind her. 

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that situation. After all, he’s lived that situation. Once he gets off the elevator, out of the corner of the eye he notices her relax fractionally, and he makes a note to mention it to his boss. Always good to keep him apprised of things like this.

\---

“I’ll have to make sure the front desk knows to alert us, should any incidents arise,” he says when he tells him. “I would hate for our vacation to be cut short unnecessarily.”

\---

“That was our friend Justine at the front desk,” his boss says after hanging up. “Evidently there is a very angry man downstairs yelling accusations of fraud and demanding to be taken to Anna May’s room.”

“Cute,” says Anthony, eyes narrowing. “Where do you want me, boss?”

“You take Anna May,” he says. “I’ll talk to our loud friend downstairs.”

\---

“I don’t understand,” she says. “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“Name’s Anthony,” he says. “Your husband is here. If he comes into this room, I’m planning to make him regret that decision.”

Anna May pales rapidly. “How did he find me? How did—how did you know?”

“Been there,” he says shortly, indicating his scar.

“Oh,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“My boss is trying to defuse the situation downstairs right now,” he adds. “He’s persuasive, but I’m a precaution. Take Riley and get into the bathtub, and don’t open the door no matter what you hear. Got it?”

Anna May nods and grabs Riley by the hand, disappearing into the bathroom. A few minutes later, Anthony hears voices outside the door—the angry voice of the bastard he’s about to break in half, and his boss’s calm baritone, gentle and steel-coated at the same time. Problem is, this idiot is too stupid to realize how fucked he is, and he bangs on the door. 

“I really must impress upon you what a terrible idea this is,” his boss is saying, and Anthony opens the door just in time to see the asshole lose it and rear up to hit his boss. He grabs his arm and twists, pulling him into the room and shoving him to the floor, and by the time the idiot knows what hit him, he’s already got his gun trained on him, silencer included.

“Don’t you know good advice when you hear it?” he asks.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“The guy who has no problems shooting you for asking stupid questions,” he says pointedly.

His boss surveys them. “Don’t you see now why I really insisted that you leave?”

“What the hell is this? Anna May! You get the fuck out here now! Who are these assholes? You fucking slut, are you giving it up to both of them?”

Anthony exchanges a look with his boss. A tight nod, and he’s punching the idiot hard in the face. “I also don’t have a problem with shooting you for not shutting the fuck up in general,” he says.

“Nor, I admit, do I,” his boss says. “There might be some minor logistical troubles involved in moving your body, but I know a lot of people here, Mr. Tomson. I don’t advise pushing your luck.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Excellent—we’ve finally reached the important part of this conversation.” Elias meets his eyes and smiles, the one that promises all sorts of terrible, fiery consequences if his will is not obeyed. Anthony fucking loves that smile, and not just because he’s usually the one who gets to enforce all those terrible, fiery consequences. “I would, to be quite honest, like to kill you, but as I said, there’s the minor logistical inconvenience of disposing of you afterward, and I _am_ supposed to be on vacation, so it’s for those reasons that I hesitate. I don’t normally do so when it comes to what I want, you understand.” He says this almost ruefully. “I suppose the second thing I want, then, would be for you to leave, never return, and in fact entirely erase from your memory the name Anna May. If you agree to do that, I may even allow you to leave intact. Does that seem reasonable to you?”

“Doesn’t seem reasonable to me,” Anthony says. “My vote is for shooting him.”

“Yes, I understand that, and under normal circumstances, I’d agree,” his boss says. “But you do have to admit the work involved in cleaning up the mess would be a slight issue, and who wants to deal with that kind of hassle on their vacation?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’d mind too much, taking care of it.”

His boss smiles again and turns back to the asshole. “This one. He’s just so dedicated. I’m sure he’d work 24/7 if I let him,” he says. “Have you reached a decision, Mr. Tomson?”

“I’ll leave,” he says finally, apparently finally having caught on to the seriousness of his current circumstances. “Just let me see my son, one last time.” 

“That wasn’t included in my offer,” his boss says. “Shoot him in the leg.”

“No, wait—” Anthony shoots him in the leg. “Fuck! You fucking shot me!” He clutches at his leg.

“You’re quick,” Anthony drawls.

That’s when the door bursts open, and who should charge through but Mr. Tall Dark and Pain in the Ass. Anthony figures Mr. Tomson isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he raises his gun in that direction. All it would take is just a little bit of pressure and this fucker would be out of their lives for good. The thought makes his trigger finger itchy.

Elias gives him a quick look that clearly says _don’t_ , before he’s asking Reese if he’s looking for Anna May.

“Don’t look so concerned, John.” Anthony’s jaw clenches at his boss’s use of the fucker’s first name. “We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Who the fuck are you now?” Tomson apparently thinks this is his cue to rejoin the conversation. God, this guy is an idiot.

“No one’s talking to you, so do yourself a favor and shut up before I shoot you in the other leg,” Anthony tells him. He looks at Reese. “I think it’s obvious we’ve got this under control. Did you want to leave us to it?”

“It’s fine, Finch,” he says under his breath, obviously talking into his earpiece. To Anthony, he says, “I’m surprised you only shot him in the leg.”

“I’m on vacation,” he says.

Reese smirks, like there’s something funny about that, and Anthony’s trigger finger itches again. It’d be so _easy_. 

“We were in the process of giving Mr. Tomson here a choice,” Elias cuts in. “Leave, or die, essentially. I have to say he wasn’t making very good decisions.”

“Fuck you,” Tomson spits.

“My point exactly,” Elias says, and Anthony aims his gun at Tomson again. Elias shakes his head once in response: _not necessary_.

“I think I can take it from here,” Reese says, after a moment. “If you want to get back to your… vacation?”

Anthony shrugs. “I’m in no hurry. I’d kinda like to shoot this guy again, maybe in the head this time.”

“How are you going to get the body out of the hotel?” Reese asks curiously.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He grins with all his teeth.

“I could just call Carter and she could save you the cleanup.” He pauses, glancing at where the guy is bleeding from his leg wound. “Or, well, some of the cleanup.”

“Anthony, how attached are you to that gun?” Elias asks him.

“Not very, it’s just a cheap, traceless piece I picked up. Why?”

“Ah, excellent. Then I have an idea.”

\---

Joss is pretty sure this is one of the strangest, neatest calls she’s ever gotten. A woman with her kid, on the run from her ex, the ex finds them, brandishing a weapon… but then somehow trips, shooting himself in the leg? And then is amazingly cooperative after the fact? The woman—Anna May—is clearly shaken, but there's an undercurrent of steel to her demeanor, and she's definitely sticking to her story. It’s all extremely convenient, and Joss is not remotely surprised when her phone rings.

“This your handiwork, John?” she asks, but the voice on the other end _is_ a surprise.

“Make sure Mr. Tomson cooperates to the very fullest,” New York’s most ruthless crime boss is saying, directly to her, in her ear, through her very own cell phone, because of course he is. “I’d hate for his stay in prison to be… uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d be real broken up about it,” she says, wondering what the hell is going on. She does not drink nearly enough if Elias is going to start teaming up with John and Finch. They’re each enough trouble separately.

“Have a good night, Detective.”

He hangs up, and she stares at her phone. She sighs, deciding there’s going to be a very large margarita in her future.


End file.
